


Case 153: The Adventure Of Maude (1898)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [195]
Category: Maude (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Gay Sex, Johnlock - Freeform, London, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Panties, Politics, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes, Women's Rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-16 13:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17550500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Mr. Sherlock Holmes takes on arguably his greatest challenge yet – trying to stop a woman from doing something! Or does he?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts).



> I have no idea why Maude is not seen more often on TV, unless modern so-called comedy shows are determined to keep it off for much the same reason as people selling cheap tat are objecting to real quality on the market. Bea Arthur is priceless and backed by a brilliant class in this All In The Family spin-off, and her interactions with Archie Bunker are unmissable.

_[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D.]_

One of the many questions asked in the letters that poured into Baker Street each day concerning Sherlock's and my adventures together concerned various attempts to rank such by all sorts of different criteria. One of the more amusing ones, I thought, was a lady who had inquired as to which case I had found my most challenging. I was sure that most people would have expected something from the dark Moriarty years, but this little adventure surely ranked right up there when it came to someone being hoist by their own petard. It was a trifling little matter all told, made more so by the dark events that followed partly as a result of it and so nearly broke us apart once more.

Coincidentally this affair began after two small incidents concerning friends of ours. Sherlock had recently had to sort a minor matter for Mr. Lloyd Jackson-Giles, the lover of Mr. Sweyn Godfreyson. Which reminded me; Lloyd's brother Mr. Benjamin Jackson-Giles despite being happily married with a large and growing family (thirteen children with another on the way) still leered at Sherlock whenever he came round to be treated by me, which seemed to happen far too often although I supposed working as a security guard at a molly-house was that sort of job. If I did not know Sherlock better I would have thought that he was having the fellow round so often just to tease me.

Lloyd, an unassuming fellow who had grown to be the image of his prodigious elder brother, had recently submitted a fiction story for some newspaper competition and had, much to his surprise, won. The newspaper had however been 'difficult' about paying out the prize, and Sherlock and I both had a strong suspicion that the skin colour of the winner was a factor in that as he had had to have his picture taken as part of it all and his difficulties had only started after that. Some Words in the right places made sure that said difficultied ended pretty damn shapish, and my publishers Brett, Burke & Hardwicke were prevailed upon to commission some of Lloyd's work. An unpleasant example of bigotry dealt with – and another was to follow on its heels.

I had remarked to Sherlock as he was telling me about this that we had not had that many visits from his pest of a brother Bacchus lately, and he had explained that the fellow was abroad for a week, frowning for some strange reason at my dancing round the room in celebration. He told me that the pest had sent him a telegram demanding that he investigate the recent assault on the unpopular government minister Lord Ashdown in a London alleyway but Sherlock had found that his brother had (once again) left out certain important details, specifically that the 'nobleman' had a short time back chanced to encounter our friend Mr. Benjamin Hope from the Tankerville Club adventure on a Westminster pavement and had struck the latter for the egregious crime of a black man inconveniencing him by not stepping out into the roadway so he could pass. Several of Mr. Godfreyson's boys had 'inconvenienced' His Lordship rather more in an alleyway very soon after, and Bacchus had not been pleased at Sherlock's telling him where to shove his request. Oh dear how sad never mind and did the lounge-lizard require a demonstration?

֍

So to our current case and the annoying reappearance of said lounge-lizard to Downing Street. I was sure that if I asked Mrs. Singer nicely she would let me install a few man-traps on the stairs; we were after all at the top of the house and... and Sherlock was shaking his head at me again, damnation!

The over-scented annoyance sat down. Why Mrs. Bannerman wanted to marry this pest the Good Lord alone knew!

“Lord Salisbury is worried over Mr. Bunker”, he said.

I was not surprised at that. Mr. Archibald Bunker was a Liberal Unionist and - brace yourself, gentle reader - a well-liked politician (incredible as that seems in any age) in that he not only called a spade a spade but was quite likely to call it a bloody spade if not something even more unrepeatable. It was, Sherlock had once told me, one of his brother's recurring nightmares that Mr. Bunker might by some terrible mischance be introduced to the Queen which would surely give poor Lord Salisbury a heart-attack.

Hmm, 'accidents' could happen.....

“A popular politician?” the annoying resident mind-reader said, shaking his head at me again. “Dear dear. Little wonder that our esteemed prime minister is concerned. We cannot be having _that_ sort of thing, can we?”

Our unwelcome visitor scowled at him for that.

“It is not so much him as his wife's cousin over from the United States”, he said heavily. “A female version of him, yet impossibly she is even worse. Mrs. Maude Findlay.”

“What of her?” Sherlock asked laconically. I knew he was not as disinterested as he was making out but also that his apparent attitude was annoying his brother, which was all well and good.

“She is one of those terrible suffragists”, Mr. Bacchus Holmes sniffed, as if the unseen Mrs. Findlay was in truth a mass murderer or at least a slayer of helpless little kittens. “And she is here for a whole year with her husband on business.”

Sherlock looked at his brother.

“I do not see a problem here”, he said warily. “Mrs. Findlay is entitled to her freedom of speech like anyone else. I cannot be having with this modern attitude some politicians have that people should not be able to say things because someone's precious feelings might get hurt. I do hope, brother, that you are not suggesting that I endeavour to persuade this lady to refrain from exercising her democratic rights?”

“Women are perfectly entitled to do that provided they keep to the kitchen and leave the running of matters to the professionals”, our visitor said loftily.

“Like the sort of 'professionals' who recently murdered two innocent Cornishmen to score a political point?” I not-snarked. 

Our visitor turned on me but my friend got in first.

“Bacchus!” Sherlock said sharply, “if your next sentence contains any variations on the words omelette, eggs and breaking, then be assured that the only thing to get 'broken' any time soon will be both your wrists as I forcibly escort you from these premises!”

I should probably not have enjoyed seeing the lounge-lizard shake with fear at Sherlock's anger like that. Besides, every time he got like that there were some quite interesting Consequences for certain parts of my anatomy later.....

I pulled myself together with an effort, ignoring a blue-eyed someone's damnably annoying smirk.

“Fortunately Mr. Bunker loathes the dratted woman”, our visitor said. “He refers to her as 'Attila The Hen'. But the newspapers are bound to make hay of her actions because of her link to a British politician.”

“And you think that if I talked to her, she might change her tone?” Sherlock asked. “An interesting challenge. Well, I suppose it is worth a try.”

I stared at him in astonishment, as did our unwelcome visitor. He was actually going to help?

“You _will_ speak to her?” Mr. Bacchus Holmes said uncertainly, clearly as taken aback as I was at Sherlock's reaction. 

“I will”, Sherlock said. “You had better go about your business, Bacchus, as I have someone important coming soon.”

Our visitor scowled at the put-down but made his exit. I waited until he had gone before asking.

“I did not know we were expecting anyone important”, I said.

“We are not”, he said shortly. I frowned.

“But you said....”

“I said that someone important will be coming soon”, he said, rising to his feet and giving me what what most definitely a Look. “I meant _you_ , John Watson. You will be coming very soon. Our room, you, naked, two minutes.”

Seriously, one of these days he was going to give me an aneurysm talking like that without warning. Either that or I would injure myself trying to get undressed while moving!

֍

A fairly fit medical gentleman in his early middle age should not have to endure having three successive orgasms pulled out of his wrecked body, I thought as Sherlock lowered himself down onto me again and tweaked my nipples in a way that, incredibly, had me growing hard once more. I stared unfocussedly up at him; I would have said something but that forming words thing was a bit beyond me at present.

“I love you so much. John”, he said as he rocked my world again. 

I just nodded at him. I tried a smile, but I was not sure it came out as one. He grinned and squeezed my cock, causing my body to judder as I tried to come on empty. It hurt but it was a glorious pain, of the sort that made me complete.

He prized himself off of me and stood next to the bed grinning.

“Fancy a nice long cab ride?” he smiled.

I would have scowled, but that would have taken far too many facial muscles. Instead I just passed out.

֍

I was in little better shape at breakfast the following morning, thanks largely to having gone from fast asleep to being jerked off first thing in the morning. And _someone_ really could do with toning down the smugness level a notch! I lowered myself carefully onto my cushion and sighed happily.

“I thought that we might go and see Mrs. Findlay this afternoon”, Sherlock said, smiling as I automatically forked over two of my bacon rashers to him. 

“You are actually going to try to dissuade her from speaking out?” I asked dubiously. I considered Americans a generally decent lot but some of them, I often felt, did not seem to come with a volume button and I suspected that Mrs. Findlay would prove to be one such. And I still did not see why my friend was helping his annoying lounge-lizard of a brother.

“I will do exactly what Bacchus asked of me”, he grinned. “He said that I should go and talk to her. So talk to her I will.”

I stared at him uncertainly. What was he up to? Still, at least the journey was not until the afternoon so I should be able to sit down properly by then.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

I was indeed able to sit in the cab quite comfortably on our way over to Newhaven Street. Or at least it would have been quite comfortable had not _someone_ insisted on his wearing the red, white and blue 'Patriotic Panties' which the bastard had kept flashing at me throughout the day. And he had promised to let me remove them personally once we got back to Baker Street.

He really was trying to kill me through sex, damn him!

“Bacchus will not be a happy bunny today”, Sherlock smiled as I gritted my teeth at his _insouciance_. “According to the _'Times'_ Mrs. Fawcett visited Mrs. Findlay last night and they discussed various matters of women's rights.”

He was probably right about that, I thought. Mrs. Millicent Fawcett had the previous year set up a national organization to coordinate the various local women's suffrage groups, and was beginning to target some politicians on the matter, to their very evident discomfort. There were very few in parliament who were prepared to speak out for women's rights but I suspected that that would change given time.

“Very comfortable, these are”, he muttered.

I myself might live to see women get the vote _unless I died of sheer frustration along the damn way!_

֍

Mrs. Maude Findlay was a dominant personality in every way. Tall, grey-haired and imperial, she made two of her inconsequential husband Walter who seemed very much an extra piece of equipment that she had decided to bring along. I could see who wore the trousers in this marriage. 

Someone's not-smirk was annoying again!

The lady looked sharply at Sherlock. I wondered if I should bring a stop-watch to see how long it was until the first simper. But this one was surely made of sterner stuff and she would not....

Oh come on, Lord! Just the one. Was that too much to ask?

“I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes”, she said somehow managing to look disapproving and to simper at him at one and the same time (impressive). “Am I to take it that you are here to tell me to button it?”

Her husband opened his mouth presumably to object to her frankness but she just looked at him and he froze. Even more impressive.

“Far from it, madam”, Sherlock smiled. “My irksome brother Bacchus, who works for the government, asked that I approach you concerning your recent pronouncements on women's suffrage.”

“Hah!”, she exclaimed. “I _knew_ it!”

Sherlock shook his head at her.

“He did not however tell me to request that you _refrain_ from speaking your mind”, he smiled. “He merely said to _talk_ with you. For example, to ascertain if you really were intent on advancing the cause of women's suffrage.”

She looked sharply at him.

“I am sure that your government is as crooked as ours back home”, she said, “and that they are already having an attack of the vapours over Mrs. Fawcett calling here last night.”

“I happen to wish Mrs. Fawcett well in her endeavours to secure women the vote”, Sherlock said. “It is something that, like the fairer constituencies we secured some thirteen years back, will happen whether the current crop of politicians wishes it or no. Although it might be said that the sooner it does happen, the better.”

“Why do you say that?” she demanded.

“Because politics is all about knowing which levers to pull and which to push”, he said. “Rather like a railway signal-box, especially in the way that one wrong move can cause total disaster. I happen to know that Miss Fawcett believes the Liberal Party, currently in opposition, would be the best people to target.”

“And why would she be wrong in that?” Mrs. Findlay demanded. “Your Liberal Party are the reformers as I understand it.”

“Because a party will only enact a promise once in power if it sees some _benefit_ from it”, Sherlock explained. “Giving women the vote would be briefly popular to whichever party enacted it, but studies have shown that ladies tend as a whole to be more conservative than gentlemen. I am sure that whatever they may say in public, the Liberals know full well that any such move would make them suffer in the long run. They would find some reason to water down or even cancel any change.”

She hesitated long enough for another simper. I coughed. It was not a defensive growl, whatever anyone later claimed.

“What do you suggest then?” she asked.

“I would suggest targetting the Conservatives and Mr. Bunker's Liberal Unionists”, I said. “I think that they will soon merge into one party anyway and they have shifted suddenly before, as they did to remove the hated Corn Laws half a century back when that was clearly in the Nation's interests. That would place the Liberals in a very difficult position, with their opponents looking more liberal than they are, and they would be left with no choice but to soften their opposition to the move to avoid being outmanoeuvred.”

She thought on his words then nodded. I did not see any visible change in Sherlock but I suddenly knew that he was going to do something odd in some way.

“And Mrs. Fawcett may also consider pursuing the likes of my brother Bacchus”, he smiled. “People like him wield an undue amount of influence on governments of all hue, and short of the apocalyptic asteroid for which many of those who know him are praying to descend upon his coiffured head – or the man-traps that, ahem, certain people would wish to place in his path - he will likely be there long after the next election which could be in as little as two years. Some even say that his ilk control their elected masters.”

“That is true”, she said. “As we say back home, when you've got them by the balls their hearts and minds will surely follow. Thank you for calling, Mr. Holmes.”

And damn me if there was not another simper on the way out!

֍

“That really was awful of you”, I said in a tone of the mildest reproof as we waited for a cab outside Mrs. Findlay's house. “Although I felt a bit sorry for poor Mr. Findlay, not being able to get a word in edgewise.”

“Indeed”, he said sonorously. “Still, it makes for marital harmony when each knows their place, does it not?”

I stared at him suspiciously. He grinned at me.

“We will be going by Trafalgar Square”, he said. “Would you like to stop for pie at that place you like so much?”

I was about to berate him for asking such a stupid question when I remembered. 

“That is mean, making me choose between pie and panties!” I hissed.

He just smirked at me.

֍

Fortunately he loved me enough to buy a whole pie to go and once back at Baker Street I duly divested one cheeky teasing consulting detective of one pair of panties.

Not of his damn smirk, though!

֍

A week or so later we had a visitor to Baker Street. An unwelcome lounge-lizard of a visitor. Seemingly the apocalyptic asteroid had not arrived despite all my prayers.

“I cannot believe it!” the nuisance fumed. “This damn woman and her cronies have suddenly started on the Conservatives and some of them have already said that they can see a political advantage in being seen to be more liberal than the Liberal Party! The prime minister is furious!”

“A politician doing something because the common people wish it?” Sherlock smiled. “Tut tut. Truly 'tis the End of Times!”

His brother glared at him.

“And now Peterson at work says that his wife is backing the cause”, he groused, “which means he has to support it or else he gets none. And even Muriel seems to back it for some daft reason. Honestly Sherlock you have made things worse, not better!”

Sherlock just smiled at him. It took his brother rather too long to get it.

“You... you did not....”

“You told me to talk with Mrs. Findlay”, Sherlock said innocently. “So I did. Since you did not specify the content of the conversation you wished me to undertake, I therefore advised her on the best way to achieve her ends.”

You... you....you....!”

He was clearly seething with rage. He stood, glared at us both and marched across to the door.

“You will pay for this!” he yelled as he exited in a rush of bad cologne.

֍

As it happened we both of us nearly did pay for it, dearly. But in the end it was the lounge-lizard who reaped the whirlwind.

֍


End file.
